The Art of Loving a Criminal
by Spazu
Summary: Courtney wasn't rich. Her father job was on a rocky stage and her mother was no where to be found. As for Duncan, he was rich. His father had billions, and he was loved by everyone. Everyone except Courtney. Can he win her heart? And with everything that is going on with Courtney's life, can she actually let him in?
1. Chapter 1

**April 14****th****, 2013 **

_Duncan Marshfield's 18__th__ birthday_

Today was the day the dimwitted popularity praised idiots waited for. Duncan Marshfield, Roosevelt Academy's signature bad-boy with the rich daddy, eighteenth birthday was, well, today. The usual whores wore an extra coat of makeup on their caked faces. Tighter clothing unfortunately covered their assets, minimally of course. And they all wore more perfume than was needed.

The guys, on the other hand prepared themselves for what was bound to happen. Their girlfriends' possibly falling limp to the delinquent's charm. It always happened ever since his father enrolled him into this school.

Even with the numerous piercings and the Nile long rap sheet, he was attractive to the naked eyes. Hell even the blind eye, With his unnatural teal eyes, and spiky black hair with a tint of electric green that was fading quite a bit According to almost every asset in the female population at their school, even most of the teachers, his body was fit for a Greek god. Along with his tattoos here and there, he was attractive. Very attractive.

Not to me of course. I found Duncan Marshfield very vile and annoying. With his bad-boy aura and his player ways, he sickened me. Flaunting around his wealth and threatening poor kids in school.

Poor kids like me.

I, Courtney Vanderbilt, have a name that sounded like a million dollars, my great grandfather managed to be blessed with such. But in actual formality, I was nothing but an intelligent, penniless nerd with a full ride scholarship. There wasn't one day Heather, Duncan's on and off choice of cuisine, would go without reminding me of my lack of money, or my position in the social class here in Toronto, Canada.

I'd admit my father's job as a car mechanic was holding on to a thin twine, but it placed a roof over my head and food on the table. Even if that food consisted of take out from the local In and Out burger. We still manage to go on.

I plan on becoming a lawyer in the near future. And with the possibility of Harvard accepting me on a full ride right beneath my nose, I am going to make my father proud. I am going to show my mother, who is somewhere forgetting that she has a child, that I'm not just some poor nerd who won't achieve anything due to her father's bank account.

I didn't need to climb any mountain to reach where Duncan and Heather were. Even if they did make fun of my clothes, or talk about my father with such distaste, I wasn't going to stoop down low enough to indulge in their stupidity.

Being the self confident person I am, I managed to stick up for myself. Being in this alone was tough, but surviving high school was a challenge I need to overcome.

"My help claimed they saw you at target yesterday. You sure your dad's paycheck is enough to actually purchase something from there? You should try Mande's or maybe even PayHalf. I heard their cargoes are only seven dollars. Four if you have a coupon." Heather bypassed me with her usual snarky remarks as she made her way towards Duncan, who looked good for the public eye.

His hair looked damp, but in a messy way of course, which kind of suited him. His full lips looked quite swollen, in an aroused way of course. Along with the casual bad-boy look, he looked quite good for his big one eight.

Duncan wore a simple black v-neck that tightened around his bulging biceps, showing off his tasteful abs. Complimented with dark washed jeans that held the regular studded chain wrapped around his belt loop, complimented with a pair of all black sneakers that looked very expensive. Over that were his regular wristbands and the everyday dog-chain, along with his signature leather jacket.

Gosh did he love black. "Her Porky, what are you looking at?" Another one of Duncan's preferred flavors, Gwen, barked as she bypassed me too, bumping my shoulder. That caused me to drop the textbooks I had in my hand upon the floor as the hallway erupted into laughter.

It wasn't my fault I wasn't as skinny or tall as most of the girls here. With my mother's Greek blood, I managed to inherit some of her looks, according to the picture my father gave me of her as a teenager.

We had the same chestnut hair with the majestic amber eyes. And the curves, they were dead on. Now, I dreaded these damned curves for their cursed me with the fat jokes and thick boned insults I didn't even needed right now at the moment. Indulging into the stupidity that is high school will foil my perfect GPA.

Harvard won't accept a idiotic girl who cost herself detention because she decided to answer to rumors and constant bashing of her peers. First rule to succession, don't let people bring you down.

People like Heather, Duncan, Gwen and even Geoff weren't lowly classed like I was. They had people who worked for them. Parents who provided their child with their every needs, their every wants. I on the other hand had to work for what I wanted. I didn't want much. Just a proper education and clothes on my back.

My father, even if he struggled, did it all. Which I am eternally grateful for.

"You didn't answer me, Wide-load. Quit starring at him, he'll never be interested." Gwen spat down at me before kicking the rest of the papers and books, I managed to pick up quite rapidly, out of my hands.

Of course, the entire student body managed to break out into guffaws that split my eardrums. I didn't dare respond to her quip. Gwen was just an idiot if she thought, after almost eight years of attending school with these assholes, I would give in now.

And being interested in Duncan? When hell freezes over and delivers my mother back to me. Duncan was an inconsiderate jerk who flaunted his daddy's paychecks like a freaking French fry from McDonalds... All these girls here only attached to him for his fame and billions. Him being the son of multibillionaire Raven Marshfield, CEO and owner of Marshfield Enterprises, he was watched like a rare hawk that only came out once a year.

Everyone wanted a piece of Duncan Marshfield. The girls, the cheerleaders. Even the nerds on the debate team wanted a piece of him. They couldn't fool me with their Morse code. The teachers thought of him as a disruptive jerk with a rich daddy.

At least we were on the same page.

"Hey Porky, how about a little birthday gift to yours truly? My history project is due last period, you think you could— well, you know." I looked up from the massive mess of loose papers to see the conniving oblivious airhead himself, making a circular motion with his arms. Duncan Marshfield wanted me to do his assignments.

That was a first.

"Do I look like an idiot to you— you— you cloying yard bird?" The hallway grew deadly silent as I, surprisingly, told Duncan off. Where did that confidence come from? I usually accepted such offers and go about my way, but this was too much.

"What did you call me princess?" Duncan bit back, moving closer towards me as I felt myself cower against my open locker.

"Is your brain to small or is all that testosterone causing a fault in your mind functioning?" My voice rose with levels of unexpected confidence, causing some of Duncan's buddies to laugh a bit.

Birthday boy was getting served by the school's nobody. Not a victorious title, but eh— I could deal."Look here Wide load—"

"No you look here, idiotic delinquent." My head rose with dominance that I didn't even know existed. "Just because your daddy has enough money to buy half of America and Russia, doesn't mean you will be-little me. Having greens in your pocket doesn't make you a better person in life. Everyone only tolerates you around here because you have Ben Franklin as your best friend. So don't even think I even like you well enough to do your stupid history project. I can't stand you, I can't stand the snobby little rich kids in this school, and I sure as hell won't sit here and take the verbal abuse. Other than half of your stupid followers, I have a brain. Now do me a favor and go learn how to treat a female with proper decency." With my last shout, I knee the infamous bad boy in his kiwis before stomping down the hall to my next class.

I had enough of the constant bullshit this school provided.


	2. Chapter 2

_Courtney Vanderbilt_.

It's been four dreading periods since I kicked Duncan in his prized jewels. And I've been getting vicious glares from his tainted, hourly screws all day.

I finally stick up for myself in this preppy school and I get bashed for it. If it wasn't for my pre-admission into Harvard, I would have done these years ago.

They didn't dare have the permission to bully me and call me names. I didn't resemble a pig, or a boor. My resemblance to my AWOL mother was growing quite annoying. Why could I look like my father? Dark blonde hair, tall built, light vanilla skin with freckles assessing over his cheeks. His emerald eyes with speck of gold in it were originally beautiful.

Have me wishing I had them.

I should at least be blessed with his looks since he actually cared to take care of me. My mother is a coward. Why leave the minute they put the baby in my father's hand. Was it too much to ask for? Did she not want me? At least stay for my father, instead of falling off the face of the earth. Who did that to their child?

Abandoning me, was I not good— "What the hell—" As I was getting ready to leave the empty class room, someone, a very strong hand, pulled me back, causing my body to slam against the wall. My eyes looked up into those mesmerizing teal eyes that belonged to one asshole with bruised balls. One I couldn't stand.

"How much do you love your father, Princess?" My eyes grew into slits as the mention of my father rolled of his tongue.

I love my father with every single fiber, blood cell, bone and organ in my body; He was the only one that stayed with me when my mother wouldn't. Even if he wasn't good at the motherly role, he played it with flying colors. My father, Bradley Shane Vanderbilt, was the best man I'd ever known.

"How much any child will love their father. What more do you want, _Duncan_." I spat out his name with tedious venom, which only made the smirk on his face turn into a full blown, demented grin. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he pulled out a folded paper from his back pocket.

"Bradley Vanderbilt, Mechanic at Marshfield's Car and Shine. His job is already slipping off the radar with unexplained absences; I could always just make him loose it all together. Since he does work at my father's company, of course." My eyes almost bulged out of its sockets as I watch Duncan laugh bitterly before handing me over a big postal board with a miniature brief-case.

"I'm letting that little denying rant that occurred earlier slip by. You're lucky, Porky, that my girls didn't maul you yet. Probably waiting till gym to do it during dodge ball, who knows?" He shrugged before slipping off the desk he was leaning on, going towards me in a sly manor. My body didn't respond to his touch as he slipped his finger up along my chin. Forcefully, he made my light amber eyes connect with his teal ones. Threatening me, I didn't mind.

But my father has done nothing wrongs. The bills were piling up by the week, I can't have him losing his job because on spoiled delinquent couldn't finish his history project. It would be selfish.

"Make it at B plus worthy babe. I want it before ninth period alright?" With his cold, calloused fingers, he pushed a strand of my caramel hair away from my face before giving me a glimpse of his demonic smirk."Later, Porky." With a final wink, he slipped out of the classroom, leaving me to finally exhale that breath that was stuck in my throat the entire time.

And for the first time in eight years of being in that school, I cried.

"_Why me?" _

I was placing the finishing report upon the project, making the postal board look quite ancient and Greek-like. With the pictures of Greek prophecies regarding Aries, the God of War. He had some similarities to Duncan himself so why not do it on him.

Why would he do so much as threaten my father? He could have cut my hair, or jeopardize my campaign as class president or so, but not my father. Duncan was such an annoying prude. He's insensitive and rude.

How could almost all of the female population in our school actually enjoy that jerk?

"Done!" I said quite satisfied as I admired the board from a far. Looking over each and every detail of the project, I sighed in content before closing it quickly, rushing out of the library. I didn't know where I was going to place the project. Didn't want to risk going into the lunchroom. Neither did I want to check any random janitor closets.

"Heather, look, you're hot and all, but I don't do the same girl more than once in a day." Turning one of the corners, I managed to catch the delinquent in his normal act of rejection. Heather McKenzie looked quite fired that Duncan couldn't give her what she wanted. And for some crazy reason— hence the sarcasm, my appearance just made everything a bit worst.

As Heather was storming off, she threw her cup of vitamin water, that's what it tasted like, in my face. The normal fat comments leaving her mouth as she modeled off in her too-high wedges.

I bit my lip to stop me from crying, etching the board away from my soaked upper body. Duncan just stood there, looking at me with a strange glint in his eyes I couldn't muster, due to the liquid seeping through my eyelashes.

"I finished it. Report, pictures, designs and everything included to make it presentable. It'll be worth at least an A minus." My eyes were engaging in the invisible distraction along my fingernails. I didn't dare want to look up into those monstrous, yet completely inviting teal eyes, or I'd break down into tears.

Crying, it was making me weaker each day. Every day, I would eat every single comment, every single insult towards my level in academics, the level of social class I am in, my weight. I would take it in and it'll make me a stronger person. As a lawyer, I'm supposed to look my enemies in the face and laugh. They weren't achieving as much as I was.

"Courtney, I—" Duncan began to make his way towards me; at least that's what I managed to seek by his feet. I placed the project against the locker, backing up. "Its fine Duncan, I'm used to it by now."

I quickly turned around and darted towards the end of the hallway, not bothering turn back. My face was growing sticky, and the hot tears running down my face didn't help either.

_Duncan Marshfield _

I felt bad. The feisty nerd I saw this morning was gone completely. I guess me threatening her father's job wasn't such a settled way to approach the deal. Courtney grew completely vulnerable when I mentioned her father. She became quiet, and the color to her light, caramel skin lessened.

My project wasn't that important to me so much that I had to go to those extent measures, but I wanted her to fear me. I wanted to see her cry, to see her grovel on her knees and beg for my forgiveness towards her actions this morning.

Although I was surprised she actually stood up for herself. Usually she would just ignore what people say towards her, or just automatically do what they ask. I knew since fifth grade, she wasn't the one who would get pushed around. She was dominant, and smart, yet really quiet.

Yes, I actually pay attention to the people around me, hell how could I not pay attention to her? She was smoking hot.

Courtney was way different from the girls in this school. In looks and academics. Her skin wasn't falsely tanned or bleached to make her look lighter. She wasn't overweight at all, nor was she model skinny like Heather and her posse. Hell no, she was curvy. Voluptuous breast, thin waist, with wide hips and ass only goddesses can provide. Her vibrant amber eyes always shined with confidence, along with a challenging glint. The fierceness in her step was hot. But the innocence in her smile was also cute. I won't deny she wasn't beautiful with the small freckles along her nose when she would grimace.

And her long, chestnut hair. God, I'd do anything to run my fingers in it.

Watching her run away made my little friend down below wake up, and I wasn't nowhere near a shower. Damned Heather got all uptight and threw the drink on her. It was a sight to see her dripping wet, but the innocent look on her face and the tears in her eyes weren't.

I didn't even care to put an end to it. I have control over everyone in this school. All I could say was a simple demand and they'd stop. But that would make my liking for her a bit to obvious.

I was the bad boy; the bad boy didn't have feelings.

_Well, this one does. _


End file.
